On television, Ferrell stood in city hall under the federal flag, with a Holy Book and the Federal Code beside him. Facing a crowd of ers and cameras, he solemnly swore an oath to uphold integrity and dedicate himself entirely to the development of the city as mayor.
No corruption, no abuse of power — all in the name of public service. Sounded sincere enough.
Well, maybe it was. At that moment, most people could feel a strange sense of purpose, convincing themselves they would truly become the kind of person they aspired to be.
History has no shortage of such figures — upright and principled — but they rarely occupy more than a few lines in textbooks, since their lives are usually short and uneventful. All they leave behind is their spirit.
In another room, a delayed live feed from the same scene played on a TV. Beneath it, Lynch signed a contract, exchanged papers with the man beside him, and smiled as they shook hands.
This was the conference room of the city branch of Golden Exchange Bank. It was filled with business owners eager to sell their companies — for nearly nothing — to Lynch in order to offset bank debts.
Mr. Jonathan was the first. His expression was peculiar — a lifetime of effort abandoned in a moment, in exchange for a strange sense of relief.
He had nothing left. House, car, savings, even the much younger wife — all gone.
He wasn’t sure if what he’d just experienced was that
life-flashing-before-your-eyes
moment people talk about, but images from his past kept flickering through his mind until they froze on the present.
It all felt like a dream. But dreams eventually end. He handed Lynch the signed contract and shook his hand.
His entire first half of life had amounted to a dream — and what he was left with was a startup grant from Lynch and a boat ticket to Nagaryll.
Jonathan was emotional. He understood this was just Lynch’s tactic, but there was nothing he could accuse him of.
Lynch hadn’t broken the law, hurt, or threatened him to sell cheap.
Nor had he used cutthroat competition to destroy Jonathan’s company. He simply had the bank nudge forward the debt collection — nothing you could call foul. Jonathan realized this now. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have ever been rich in the first place.
He couldn’t bring himself to hate Lynch. Lynch had taken everything — but also offered hope. Jonathan felt conflicted.
“Congratulations, Mr. Lynch. You got what you wanted,” Jonathan said humbly, using honorifics — aware that Lynch held sway in Nagaryll, too, and being respectful was the smart move.
He included a subtle jab, but that wouldn’t matter. Victors are always generous. They’ve already won.
Lynch smiled and waved it off. “I’m just helping you break out of a deadlock. Only eggs that hatch are worth keeping. And this…” he shook the contract in his hand, “…this would’ve drained the last of your energy and given you nothing in return. Once you’re in Nagaryll, you’ll understand.”
Jonathan sighed deeply, as if trying to exhale all his frustration. He forced a smile. “I’ll be in Nagaryll soon. I hope you can guide and help me — I don’t know much about the place.”
Lynch patted him on the arm, comforting him. “Of course. You’ll soon realize how smart your choice was. This will be the turning point of your life — the most important decision you’ve made.”
Jonathan stepped aside. More businessmen were waiting to sell off their assets for pennies.
If they didn’t, the bank would
legally
auction off their companies. And since courts and auction firms in the Federation are tied up in interest chains, the auctions are just formalities — often handled by banks themselves.
Banks, needing to liquidate assets, also use obscure third-party firms for plausible deniability. Sometimes these auctions are so secretive people don’t even know they’re happening — or where.
Rather than surrendering assets to banks and still being stuck with debt, it was better to sell to Lynch, wipe the slate clean, receive some seed funding, and get a fresh opportunity.
None of the people here were fools. Like Jonathan, they may have been confused at first, but over the past few days, they figured it out. It was a setup. One they had no choice but to accept.
One after another, men signed away their companies to Lynch. Technically, it was more like handing them over for free — Lynch wasn’t paying much, because they weren’t worth much.
Even at auction, the companies wouldn’t recoup the loans they owed. So Lynch had no reason to offer generous prices. He could’ve waited for full bankruptcy and picked them up even cheaper from the bank.
Frankly, the fact they weren’t paying Lynch to take them was mercy enough. Asking him for more would’ve been absurd.
But this was where Lynch’s brilliance showed. Though he didn’t pay much for acquisitions, he did offer
investments
— funds to help these people start businesses in Nagaryll.
It looked similar to a buyout, but legally it wasn’t. The asset transfer was done. The extra money was an investment. Any business they started in Nagaryll would include Lynch as a shareholder — formalized by another contract.
Sound ruthless? Maybe. But that’s capitalism. That’s how the game is played. The winner takes all — the loser can’t even bargain.
Contract after contract was signed. Lynch handed out small checks — with few zeroes — and in return absorbed companies worth dozens, hundreds, even thousands of times more.
This is why, in economic downturns, capital giants grow fastest.
They collude with city halls and banks to devour every troubled enterprise — unchecked.
Without the takeovers, these businesses can’t operate, can’t provide jobs.
City officials don’t want that. They’d rather these capitalists
shoulder social responsibility
, buy up failing companies, and create employment — even if some corners get cut. No one complains.
In extraordinary times, extraordinary measures.
Unrestrained capital swells in every financial crisis, every recession, until it becomes a monster.
After the last bankrupt man swapped contracts and took Lynch’s check, the curtain fell.
On TV, Ferrell announced his appointment as interim mayor of Sabin, until the next election.
To celebrate, Lynch had the bank staff bring champagne. He stood beneath the TV, raised his glass.
“To a new life. A new beginning.”
After everyone left, Lynch stayed. He still had paperwork to finalize with the bank.
While enjoying Helen’s massage during a break, she suddenly asked, “Boss, aren’t you afraid the bank will come after you for money, since you bought all these bankrupt companies?”
Helen hadn’t been involved deeply enough to grasp the capital-level maneuvers. She just thought buying debt-ridden businesses from a bank was a bad deal.
They owed too much. Sure, Lynch got them cheap — but now he held the debt. It looked like a huge burden.
Lynch smiled. He liked Helen — especially her massage skills. He didn’t mind indulging her naïve questions.
“Who said I’m paying the bank?” he replied.
Helen paused mid-motion. Lynch cleared his throat, and she quickly resumed.
“But… those companies owe the bank. And the bank’s already collecting,” she said.
Lynch shook his head. “They can’t repay the loans, so the bank needs to recover as much as possible before they go completely bankrupt. That’s why the bank will move quickly to collect — even if it means bringing in legal teams.”
“They know that if they let even the last bit of assets slip away, those loans turn into bad debt, and their superiors won’t be pleased.”
“But I’m different. I can repay at any time, so the bank isn’t in a rush. In fact, they’re hoping to squeeze more interest out of me.”
“Banks call people who don’t need loans every day, doing everything they can to deposit money into their accounts — while pretending not to see those who actually need a bit of cash flow.”
Lynch laughed. “This world is complicated.”
There was one thing he didn’t say: once these companies are drained of all value, he’ll dismantle them and declare bankruptcy.
Then he won’t just avoid repaying the loans — he’ll profit again.
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